First is a photo from Portugal, 1981. Unfortunately, the setting and the occasion are not supplied, so I will have to make up my own. These Portuguese people are having lunch in the barn after a hard morning of stomping grapes. They are not allowed to eat in the house because of their feet. Or...this is the monthly meeting of the "Covered Head" society. The two people who forgot their hats are feeling very out of place and are not given any food. One person came without a head but was refused entrance altogether.
I love reproductions of old posters, like the next card. The woman in green is enjoying a cup of "Camp Coffee", whatever that is. It apparently comes out of a bottle and is served at room temperature. The bottle's label shows a man in some sort of British-in-India get-up, being served Camp Coffee on a tray by an Indian servant. "For you, Sahib. Does the colonel require elephant transport to the cricket match?".
Camp Coffee's motto is "We always have it". Have what? A bitter taste? Hope for product improvement?
Notice that this woman chose a very small table so that no one but dwarfs will sit with her. More Camp Coffee for her that way. (She's already drunk half a bottle by herself, and not a dwarf in sight.)
I know it isn't Christmas, but this is one of my favorite "table" cards. This was drawn by Marri Kunnas, a famous Finnish illustrator. It shows a typical Finnish kitchen at Christmastime, right down to the rabbit on the counter. All the rosy cheeks indicate that there is no heat in the kitchen except for the oven, which is why they keep making more and more cookies.
From a folk museum in Norway comes this card with "Details of a dwelling house". Because of the fire burning, it was not necessary to bake cookies.
Marc Chagall's "The Soldier Drinks" was sent from The Netherlands. The soldier appears to be asking for a bigger cup. He has seen with his own eyes what can happen to people who drink from small cups.
Today's last card is "The Last Supper", painted by Corberelli. Common sense leads me to believe that I should not make jokes about it.
See, in the wonderful world of postcards, even tables and counters can be interesting. Sort of.